Son Of Steel And Daughter Of Air
by noplaceforabasketcase
Summary: "I'm scared, Gay-bie. I'm so scared, Gabe…" She managed to spit out before pulling her chin to her throat, ducking her lips to the collar of his shirt, and crying out into his chest at the words of a young man she alone could hear."
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey there, darling readers. This is my first ever Next To Normal Fanfiction, a multi-chap, so check back for more (: Reviews are **_**greatly**_** appreciated, I need support to keep going (I'm a **_**Huge**_** self-critic), and perhaps a few ideas…? I pretty much know where it's going, but I'd love to hear what you think. The story is totally AU, but still pertains to the characters we all know and love. I hope you like it (:**

Her eyes shut, violently. Her lips, caked with the dried and wrinkled skin of an arid night, did much the same, clutching one another as the stale oxygen they contained sat among yellowed baby teeth. She rocked with each quiet spasm of her protesting lungs, humming to herself a tune that had once lulled her to sleep.

_We spun around a thousand stars, I dreamed a dance with you… _

The now broken music box that had once shrieked the familiar tune now sat in all its waterlogged glory atop a lone bureau opposite her in the petite bedroom. It had fallen into the bath one night as she washed in rhythm to the music, and just as quickly as its hinges had rusted and its wood had been clogged with the soapy concoction, the lyrics had been forced to stand alone.

Her face puffed and reddened, her heart pounding in her chest. A warning. It wouldn't last long, though, the clarity, the purity of nothingness. Within the first minute, just as it seemed even widening her lids couldn't erase the darkness, the screaming in her ears, the taste of cotton on her tongue, she gasped for air, and her bloodshot eyes sought the brilliant glimmer of a simple blue nightlight in the corner.

Just as quickly as she had awoken from her vacancy, a shadow on the pale pink wall she scanned carefully trapped her mind once again. She fell into a pattern, repeating her dangerous game, counting this time.

_One… Two… Three… Fo-_

"Nat-lie?" She heard the voice. She knew the voice. She ignored the voice.

_Seven… Eight…_

"Nat." The cool voice didn't question, or consider. It didn't beg, or plead. It commanded. She resisted the instinct to open her eyes and respond. She merely listened.

The voice had awoken just moments ago, with a start, to the sounds of the girl's humming, just as he had each twilight for as long as he cared to remember. He'd checked the clock, nodding at the confirmation of the four hour sleep he'd had. _Plenty_. The red glowing numbers illuminated the darkness as he stumbled forward, running three thin pale fingers through thick hair the color of wheat. He delicately entered the hallway, glancing briefly at the snugly shut door of the master bedroom before turning to face the panels of the door before him. The hinges were slightly astray, and left him to carefully avoid the creaking they so often produced. He poked his nose in and whispered to the girl in the bed, her eyes shut so tight he wondered if she might escape from the world behind them.

He didn't bother to expect an invitation. He hadn't needed one before. Within moments he was beneath the covers beside her, watching as she struggled to ignore him. Her lids fluttered, but refused to release. Her lips trembled, as if forming words to fast and soft for any but the speaker to grasp.

"Nat," he repeated, pausing as he briefly, ever so briefly, questioned this futile routine, before shaking off his doubt, "he's back." It should have been a question. He shouldn't have known. But he _did._"

The girl shuddered, before returning to her inner monologue, numbers swirling in distinct and varying patterns, rows forming in the darkness of her mind. She began again, trapped on _twenty one_.

_One… Two…_

"Fine," The boy mumbled in her ear, "Stay silent, then. Stubborn, always so stubborn."

She froze momentarily, before whimpering and cowering further into his chest, another voice speaking softly to her from somewhere the boy would never see him. Her counting sped, and she sucked in another bout of oxygen.

"Shhh…" he murmured, ignoring the fear in the pit of his stomach for the sake of the girl whose hair he now stroked, "It's alright, Nat-lie. It's okay. I'm here. He's not. _He's not here._"

The numbers were replaced with the simple mantra.

_He's not here… He's not here… he's not here…_

The boy with small, smooth features reached his fingers down and laced them around the girl's ankles, pulling gently and bending her pencil-straight legs. She relaxed slightly in his embrace, and he allowed himself to envelop her, wishing that he could somehow pry the pain from her with his mere touch.

He waited, and deliberately the girl's eyes shot open. She looked at him, voicing so much with just a glance.

"Hey." He carefully arranged his features into a grin. He _was_ glad to see her staring up at him, although it pained him to observe the lack of any light within them. They didn't sparkle as they once had; they were the eyes of a woman well past her years.

Her mouth contorted over the following seconds, contemplating what she might release from them, before choosing not to bother with introductions and only minding what needed to be said.

"I'm scared, Gay-bie. I'm _so scared_, Gabe…" She managed to spit out before pulling her chin to her throat, ducking her lips to the collar of his shirt, and crying out into his chest at the words of a young man she alone could hear. They terrified her past sanity.

The eight-year-old boy clutched the girl to her, cradling his meek and lovely sister.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Liking the quick update? Don't get used to it. My life's a bit of a mess, so updates might be sparse, but hey, that's what alerts are for. However, I really enjoy writing this story, so as long as you guys provide **_**me**_** with reviews, I'll provide **_**you**_** with a story. Deal? I've also come to the conclusion that typing up this little but of fiction is a whole heck of a lot more enjoyable that doing homework. I care a lot more about the Goodman's than mathematical operations on measurements with significant figures. Well, I hope you enjoy it. It's definitely… different. I love the show, love the characters, and love the plot. But I felt like every idea I had was a mixture of pre-existing fics. That's why it's AU. Oh, and check below for more AN that I'm too lazy to type up now. **

Waking up was always the same. There was dark and there was quiet and there was peace. And then there was life. There was breathing and there was light and there was fear. And there was _Gabe_, she reminded herself, sighing as she greeted the morning, a smile stretching across her face when she noticed the lone two heartbeats in the room.

Her grey eyes met his of blue. "Hey."

"Hey." His voice cracked, he coughed and continued, "Yeah. Hey, Nat."

Beneath the crisp blue of his pupils she noticed the violet bruise-like shadows that darkened by the day, tracing them with her index finger, the same finger that she'd only just removed from his grasp of steel. "Sleep… Did you fall asleep, Gay-bie?"

"Of course, Nat." She frowned at his cool words, his innocent lie. "Nat-lie," he whined. "You don't believe me? You don't trust me? You don't trust your big brother?" But she was giggling much too hard to answer his questions. He'd plucked her hands from beneath the covers, pressed her palms to his lips, and blown gentle kisses into them, causing her to erupt in squeals and shrieks of joy.

She pleaded for him to stop, laughing all along, and he stared at her filthy nails, weaving his fingers with hers, and subtly averting her gaze. His face fell and his attention wandered.

"Gabe? Gabriel?" Natalie wondered aloud. "You 'kay, Gabe?"

"Yeah," he responded gruffly, his fingers pausing their rapid twisting and curling, "I'm 'kay, Nat. What…" He looked her in the eyes, allowing her to grow uncomfortable under his staring, "What did he… come for? Say? What did he say, Nat?"

Her face hardened. Her hands retreated, much to his dismay, and with just a glance back at his wondering eyes, she turned away beneath the blankets. "Nothing."

"Nat…"

"Nothing."

"I _know_ it wasn't-"

"He just said… hi. He just said hi to me. And then… poof. He went away, I guess."

"Uh-huh." He was skeptical, she was silent. "Natalie. What. Did. He. _Say_."

She took a moment to contemplate responding with the truth. "Gabe… what time is it?" She sat up and stretched her thin arms, letting her joints crack with each moment, and her strong swimmer's legs curled beneath one another.

Gabriel sighed in defeat. "Early. It's early."

Before he knew it, her hands were gone from her lap and she was on her knees, fingers white with pressure as she shoved him sideways.

Gabe felt the pain as his backside smacked the wooden floor, loosely covered by a simply pink rug, but more powerful yet her rejection, that is, until his wide-eyed face turned upward to see her towering over him from the bed, clutching the quilt she rested on quite tightly to prevent herself from falling, and suppressing giggles at his fallen form below her.

"Oops," she chuckled before bursting into a fit of hysteria "…you… should… you… _fell…"_

He chuckled at her failed fib, and felt the warmth of her toothy lop-sided smile spread through him like wildfire, roaring with laughter with her.

And then the siblings fell silent, as a noise could be heard from down the hall. A squeaky mattress spring.

"_Mom,_" They whispered in unison.

"You don't have to go," Natalie pleaded with her brother, "You can stay with me."

Gabe tucked his chin in and rested it on his knees in thought, before shaking his head in regret. "No, Nat-lie. If mom heard I was here… That would be… bad. You know that. She's be very… sad, Nat. To know and all. Just," he averted his eyes upward and they bore into her own, "let me know that you're okay. And you're going to be okay. Then I have to go. But tell me that it's okay now. Is it?"

Natalie smiled apologetically and flinched. No, she was certainly _not_ okay. Anything but that. Her mind was racing at a speed too quick for her to embrace, and pulling things from it's depths that she'd rather not remember. Rather not believe. Despite this, she leaned her tiny frame forward and kissed his forehead, muttering, "fine."

He sprang from his crouch on the floor, grabbing at his hair when its tousled locks tumbled into his eyes. He didn't notice the way her voice fell, or the way her teeth locked together in anxiety. Neither did he see the way she had turned to face the wall, lost in a mural their mother had painted when she was just a newborn in a crib no larger than the twin bed she now slept in.

"Good. Love you, Nat."

"Yeah. You too, Gay-bie."

"Oh, Nat…?" He froze by the door, his hand on the silver knob.

"Mhm?" she murmured, contently.

"Never mind. Love you."

She grunted quietly and watched carefully as he retreated into the hallway and stepped into his bedroom. Her feet padded softly on the floorboards, one foot giving way to the other until she'd reached the doorframe, carefully shutting it with the mere pressure of her palms against the wood.

Natalie spun to face her room, her eyes shut in anticipation for what she knew was to come. He chiseled shoulder blades rested with ease against the oak panels as she muttered under her breath, "Gabe, Gabe, Gay-bie. Gay-bie, Gay-bie… Gabe…" and opened her eyes.

The brother slunk without a word into his bedroom, switching on the light embedded in an outer-space-themed plate. The rocket ships and stars, which glowed in the pitch of a thunderous night, had calmed him while he prepared for bed as a young boy, and occupied his imagination with tales of brave astronauts, undiscovered planets, and unidentified flying objects. Now they mocked his absent childhood, his few hours of sleep and his incapability of closing his eyes until the next dreary night.

Gabe collapsed upon his bed, resting his head in his hands and shoving back with the printed pads of his fingers the tears that had been begging to rush all through the night.

It was 7:28 in the morning and he was tired.

He knew he couldn't sleep. He wouldn't anyway, because he was well aware of the fact that his mother was awake, most likely reading in her chamber and oblivious to the events of the night before, and that Natalie had awoken and, being the predictable six-year-old that she was, would find it quite simple to stay awake, staring at the ceiling fan or flipping through the pages of a worn cardboard children's book.

He sighed and crossed to his dresser, pulling from the second drawer down a simple purple tee-shirt and internally vowing to grab a pair of jeans of the dryer downstairs later. The desk was next. His bony elbow swept across the wood, shoving the various books and baubles into the waiting trash can to the left, leaving it empty of any signs of life before he placed atop it a stack of texts and notes he'd only just retrieved from a hand-me-down backpack. English first… then history… then math. No. History… then math… then… English? Definitely math first. The clean-cut multiplication and division work was clear enough for him to follow whilst only half-concentrating, the other portion of his brain free to wander until eleven minutes of fractions and parentheses had passed and English was next on his agenda. He made up a silly fantasy of a story about a time he might have gone to the zoo with his family. About how his sister had pretended to be a monkey and their father had carried him on his shoulders. About how his mother had laughed and bought ice cream for them all and about how he'd finished Natalie's cone and his own, much to her delight.

Each word made him nauseous. Sick to his stomach. He realized his teacher would notice his precious lies with ease. She knew the story. At least… half of it. And he would do terribly on the assignment for telling a false tale. Perhaps she would call him to her desk and make him repeat after her: "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But it would happen again, he was sure of it.

Before he had the chance to wrap up the story with a bitterly _perfect_ conclusion, telling the reader of the splendid ride home and the trip inside in his father's arms as he mocked sleep, he heard a sound that diverted his fingers from their harsh tapping against the desk, leaving them scratching down the wood as he stood in one brilliant motion.

He'd heard the shattering of glass.

The door slammed into the wall behind him as he burst into his sister's room, scanning the mural, the wall of windows, the frame of the bed… before his gaze met his own eyes, reflected in a shard of a recently murdered mirror.

"Nat. Oh, no. Oh, god, no. Nat. What _happened_?" he begged of her motionless form squatting on the floor amongst the bits and pieces of sharp and pointed glass.

Gabriel took her in his arms, pulling her too her feet as she stared, her eyes empty, at the knotted wooden frame where the mirror had once stood.

"In the mirror… He was in the mirror. Gay-bie, Gay-bie, Gay-bie…" she chanted her brother's name to herself as he shook her gently by the shoulders, hoping to bring her back into reality with motion, if not words.

She raised her arm and pointed at the barren wall, a wall where, if he had looked the day before, he would have seen the two of them, but where now he only saw the pale pink of the paint his sister had chosen for herself one October morning. "Right… there. He broke it Gabe." She finally turned to him, but seemed to be looking behind him, _beyond_ him, in wonder.

"I told him not to." A sigh. "But you see, Gay-bie, he did it anyway. Mommy will be _mad_ _at_ _him._ Wont she? Wont she, Gay-bie?" The girl chuckled at her rhyme. It was then, with the subtle shaking her laughter had brought her, that he noticed a shallow gash on her arm, and several much less harmless cuts on her tiny knuckles.

"Goodness, Nat. Gosh, you're bleeding. Are you okay? Do you hurt? Nat? Are you hurting now? Your arm?"

She shook her head "no," grinning as she did, and seeking out his eyes in his distraught face. "What's for breakfast?"

"Mom!" The boy pleaded, loudly. But his mother had already been startled by the commotion, and was halfway down the hall at the sound of his call. She reached the door and stepped inside in shock and awe. "Gabe? Natalie? My word, Natalie! Are you alright, sweetie pie?"

Natalie's eyes never left Gabe's as her mother hurried to her side, hastily tending to her daughter's wounds with nimble, shaken fingers and wandering eyes.

"Gabriel. What. _Happened_?" She was angry, Gabe could detect that much. But the son knew his mother well enough that a lie would neither hurt her nor catch her notice. "I fell."

"You? But, your sister-"

"Yeah. It was me. I came to wake her up and I tripped. She… wanted to help me up but then she… fell over me…? It was a mistake. I shouldn't have done it. I tripped and I guess she got the worst of it. I _think_ she's okay. I'm fine. I'm sorry." Honesty was becoming more difficult with him as the role he played carried on.

"Gabriel Daniel Goodman. Do you see what you've _done_? I'm going to take your sister to the doctor in just a minute, go get me my robe. And slippers, too! And while I'm out-"

"I know. It was my fault. I'll clean it all up." Words would only fail to describe the many ways he wished to follow his petit family to the nearby hospital and mind that his sister was receiving the best possible treatment available… and that she was staying silent. However, he knew that his aspirations were to no avail, and placed them to the side as he scrambled to fetch his mother's things, listening to the sounds of Diana shushing the already quiet child in her arms.

"Yes. Well. Good, Gabe. _Please_ be careful next time, darling. We wouldn't want either of you getting hurt again."

He nodded solemnly, making brief eye contact with his sister, a warning glance that reminded her of his lie and told her to stay true to it. While Diana was preoccupied with contacting the school and calling Natalie out sick for the day, she wandered over to the boy. "Thanks, Gabe," she whispered in his ear, before kissing it and heading to the door, waiting for her mother's assistance with her shoes and coat.

Gabriel was lost in the pieces of glass that surrounded him, the facets of light they caught, the bits of his face and hair and arms and neck they captured in between the cracks and breaks and holes his sister had made between them with just a thrust of her fist. When the click of the front door's deadlock he knew that they had left him alone in this room. This damned house.

The boy fell to his knees and cried out as the glass cut through the blue plaid of his pajama bottoms.

"Get out," he whispered. "Get out of this room. Get out of our lives. Just _go._" The volume of his words grew louder as he continued. "Leave her _alone_, Dan!" Shrieking, now. "Leave her _alone_, God _damnit!_"

**AN: Crazy, right? Well, I sure **_**hope**_** it doesn't suck too badly. I've read thousands upon thousands of fics a billion times better than this, but hey, I have homework to do. I just wanted to say thank you. For reading and reviewing. I got e-mails about people actually responding to the first chapter and I just had to keep going. So what if I get a zero on my history work? If people actually appreciate my work, well, that's worth a lot more than answering some stupid questions about American foreign policy. Four reviews. **_**FOUR.**_** That's more than I've ever gotten. Maybe that's pathetic compared to all those wonderful stories out there, but it means more to me than you can possibly imagine. I love you all. Also, here's the biggie news: TWENTY-SIX DAYS UNTIL I SEE NEXT TO NORMAL AGAIN. AHHHH. After the first time I saw it, I knew I would have to see it again. So I bought my friends some tickets and we're going October ninth. Exciting, right? Anyway, I hope you like the brother/sister fluff. I hope you're confused. I hope you have questions. I hope you're interested in what comes next. I hope it's not too ridiculous and stupid and pointless. And I hope you **_**review**_**. **

**Love and Valium,**

**Alexandra.**

**TWITTER: mshellalexandra (FOLLOW ME ****) **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: WARNING: THIS IS A MAJOR FILLER CHAPTER. Still a bit of an introduction to… everything. I think the next chapter will most likely be the last in this period of time. I KNOW, IT'S BEEN MONTHS SINCE I'VE UPDATED THIS. Literally, chapter two went up at the end of summer. It's ridiculous and I am SO SO SO sorry. I never managed to just sit down and flat out write, but I think I'll be back for a while. Anyway, this is probably my least favorite chapter and I apologize for its lack of purpose. Love you all and thank you SO much. Her we go…**

"So, Gabriel, how was _your_ day?" Diana had only just given up on any form of acknowledgement from Natalie, who was staring into space, reciting the alphabet in her adolescent mind and scrutinizing an old photograph on a nearby wall.

"Fine." He neglected, as he often did, to mention his double detention the following weekend he'd received for his reckless behavior in class, the D minus he had received on last night's English assignment, or his bruised and mangled knees. It wasn't necessary for his mother to know of his disastrous relationship with half of his teachers, the lies he'd woven into his short memoir, or the boys, just a year above him in age, who had shoved him down onto the blacktop at recess.

She hummed in response, her delicate fingers digging into the pores of a soft yellow sponge she put to use scrubbing the underside of a plate. Bending down to tuck the dish into the washer before closing it's door and pressing the pulsing red "start" button, she glanced over her shoulder, only to frown at what she saw.

"Natalie, dear, you haven't _touched_ your spaghetti. It's your favorite; I even bought that type of sauce you liked last time… the one without the chunks? Did you eat a lot at lunch? Gabe – what was for lunch at school today?"

He hadn't eaten. Neither had she. He'd been far too preoccupied to notice what the other children had been gobbling down at the circular tables that had surrounded him, which added to the thrill as the words flew from his mouth: "Spaghetti. We had it for lunch and Nat ate the whole thing. Said it was good, too. It probably was, but I got a sandwich, since I knew we were having pasta for dinner, mom."

The flustered mother sighed, placing her back to the machine and facing her children. "Natalie, honey, why didn't you say something, dear?" She attempted to chuckle at her daughter's ways, but found it difficult to force a smile as she stared down her distracted little girl. "There's always leftovers… some casserole… you liked the macaroni and cheese, right?" She checked the fridge hastily for something with which to please the silent girl. "Alright, if you're too full, just… eat your green beans at _least_."

Natalie politely _mhm_ed and the gesture brought a grin to Diana's face and simultaneously shattered Gabe's own awkward smile. He'd noticed that Natalie's murmured agreement had been directed to somebody besides their joint mother, a character towards whom her fingers were quickly jerking towards even as her palm rested flatly on the oak table.

"Mom!" he started, reaching for the plate Diana had nearly dropped, startled immediately by his uncharacteristic outburst. "Here, let me help you. I'll clear the table, okay?" He swept up a fork and swiped the mountain of greens from his sister's plate, allowing them to audibly _slap_ against his own, tossing in the marinade of butter and fresh garlic. "Good for you, Nat, finishing your vegetables. Hand me that fork, would you? Thanks, kid. Watch yourself, let me get that…" Somewhere in her portion of the kitchen, his mother smiled at the soundtrack of bantering and soft mindless conversation taking place just several yards from her.

The two Goodman children found their hand's intertwined, Gabriel carefully rubbing circles against that soft and tender triangle of skin which latched her index finger to her thumb. With his left hand, he distractedly reached for the greens on his plate and dumped a handful into his open mouth before downing the remaining half cup of milk. In seconds the plates were stacked, the cups collected, and Natalie standing beside him as he pulled her from her seat, desperate to leave his mother oblivious for the night.

"Can you finish this up by yourself, mom…?"

"Sure, sweetie, can you get Nat ready for bed while I…" Diana spun to face them, a damp towel in her hand, and smiled, fully aware of the upstairs bathroom where her quickly disappearing children had run to.

"Remember to wash your feet, they're disgusting. Honestly, though, did you walk home _barefoot_ today or something?" Gabe didn't really expect his sister to answer, as he quickly helped her strip down, piled her tank top and cuffed jeans beside the sink, and gave her a delicate shove halfway towards the shower, trusting her to step over the edge into the steaming water.

He felt safe here, sitting on the lid of the toilet seat and listening to the hum of the faucet and the swirling of water droplets down the shower drain. He knew the water calmed her, even as heated fingers catching themselves in her hair and fingering down her spine, rather than a chlorine-flavored (for she had swallowed so much of it she nearly savored the taste) bath like that of the local community pool. Natalie was a swimmer, sure. A good one, too, from the point of view of her glowing brother whose esteem for her surpassed her own.

He loved the silence. There was no humming, no counting echoing off of the tiles walls, because, submerged in water; Natalie had no reason to vocalize her fear and anxiety. There was none. She didn't hear or see or feel anything that wasn't present. Cross-legged on the porcelain throne, Gabe would sometimes pretend that that was the way of life, for his darling sister, and, shamefully and more selfishly, himself, both inside and outside of the water. But it wasn't so. "Hey, Nat… Uh, how was school today? Good? How was it?"

Nothing.

"Natalie?"

Rain fell from the ceiling, whipping the walls as it rushed downward.

He sighed. "Are you shaking your head? I can't _see _you, Nat. I can't see if you nod or shake your head."

Thin knuckles poked out from the fabric of the curtain, followed by four curled fingers and a single thumb pointed upright, confirming that her day _had _been alright, in fact, also that she would mind if he would just _stop_ bothering her and leave her alone, although even she knew she preferred that he stayed. Suddenly the hand was dragged back into it's dark, damp, haven. Gabe chuckled at the antics, his sister's silent communication, suddenly driven by pure stubbornness, rather than fear. He smiled, and prepped a towel for the loss of heated water that would send her hopping from the shower in just a moment.

The Goodman mother pressed her back against the entrance to the shared bathroom, the knobs of her spine digging into the wood. A grin was plastered on her face. Dishes were undone in the sink, but just like every night, while her babies prepared for bed, she listened, arms crossed, eyes closed, to the mindless interactions of the youngest two of her perfect, loving family.

**AN: This chapter did not turn out the way I wanted it too. Whoops.**


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